Define Faith
by Unintended Harmony
Summary: On Christmas holiday of his fifth year, Draco Malfoy is losing faith in humanity. The only thing worse than losing his own faith is losing someone elses. Sitting on a bench with this someone, choices must be made. Preview of a full fic expected in August.


**Hello there! This is a preview of my fic that I'm currently working on. It doesn't have a title just yet, but this is an excerpt of one of the future chapters. Hopefully the prologue will be posted sometime before the end of summer. The girl referred to is Bridget Casseale, an OC whose relationship with Draco is one of the large plot points in my forthcoming fic. Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it.**

Faith. What the hell is faith? Maybe some people will feed you bullshit about how there's some deity watching out for us all and how everyone has a set path and everything happens for a reason and so on and so forth. But I'll tell you what faith has done for me. It's shagged me sideways and then had a laugh about it after. I had faith in someone who exists in reality, someone I respect, and even asking so much of him as to just be a father, to maybe offer understanding, was too hard. If someone real for me can't come through, why the hell should I have faith in some imaginary being for someone else? Fuck that, mate.

"Father?"

"Yes Draco?"

"When… when did you decide that you wanted to marry Mum?" I asked him. His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise.

"Certainly not when I was fifteen." He said curtly.

"No, I'm not saying–" he cut me off.

"That Parkinson girl is lovely, but you have so many more important things to think about right now, I don't understand how you could be even considering–"

"No, Dad, I was just asking. And I'm not planning on marrying Pansy… ever." I said firmly. My father looked at me strangely for a moment as though he thought he'd somehow lost that control over me that he so loves. It's not even control really… can't a bloke just have respect for his father? Judgmental tossers…

"The moment I met her." He said after a few seconds of contemplative silence.

"So it wasn't because of… I don't know… a mistake?" I asked, knowing full well that I would soon regret it. There was little to no point in even attempting this conversation without the result of an angry Lucius and a booted-out me.

"What are you getting at Draco?" he asked skeptically.

"Well, it would be the proper thing to do if… well, accidents happen, don't they?" I asked the growing panic in my voice very poorly concealed. My father glared at me incredulously. "Please don't get angry." I almost begged.

"Malfoys do not beg, Draco." He spat. I took a deep breath and just figured it best to be out with it. Merry Christmas, Lucius…

"I think I knocked up a girl at school." I said clearly. I didn't want to have to repeat it, though I knew he would ask me to.

"Wha–"

"You heard me." Knew it. "All I'm asking is that you tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do, because I've been over it and over it and quite honestly, I think I'm about ready to Cruciatis myself." My voice was starting to break. God damn it… My parents had never said no to me, and if they started now, I was pretty sure I'd go mad. And look at me now; I'm sitting on a Muggle park bench in the snow outside a girl's house at two o'clock in the morning… Lucius remained silent for a few moments longer, simply staring at me. "For the love of Merlin, say something." I snapped. He breathed deeply.

"I do not care to know who she is, nor do I care to hear about how this happened. You will either get rid of this the old-fashioned way and never speak to her again, or you will swear her to silence and never speak to her again." He said calmly. My eyes widened. "This is not the kind of thing that happens to Malfoys. We do not make mistakes. I suggest you consider the first option. Women and scandal rarely equal silence. Make her wish she had never known your name."

All I could do was stare at him. I had expected anger, but not a restriction. For the past four years at school, I'd been allowed to do whatever I want, and as of lately, whomever I want. I'd expected a recommendation to get rid of the problem, but not a command forbidding me from her… I could only imagine his reaction if he knew that I'd been shagging her for over a year and that he considered her father at least a casual friend. What then came out of my mouth surprised even me.

"And… if I don't?" The words escaped my throat like giddy schoolchildren who had been waiting to start a sprint against their mates who so often agreed with every Lucius's ever utterance. My father's cold grey eyes, identical to my own, narrowed.

"Then you will no longer call this place home until you do." He said warningly. Something in me broke. As I sit here freezing my arse off, I still do not understand why I care so much about this blasted girl. As anything more than someone to share a good laugh or a late night shag on the couch when the common room is deserted and no teachers are roaming the House to send her back to her own dormitory, it's pretty clear that she doesn't romantically care about me, as we agreed when we started this mess at the end of fourth year, so why am I sitting outside her house gradually becoming a haven for frostbite?

"I suppose I'll be leaving then." I said, my voice empty, knowing I would regret this. My father's eyes exploded before his throat did, though it definitely was a short gap.

"You will do no such thing!" he bellowed. I stood up calmly, grabbed my cloak from the hook on the wall, and began to make my way to the door when I felt my father's firm hand digging deep into my shoulder. I whipped around to face him. "I said, you will do _no – such – thing_." He repeated scathingly. My countenance contorted to match his rage with defiance.

"You suggested it. I'm merely following orders, Father." I said coldly. To my surprise, his grip on my shoulder released and his voice softened to barely a whisper.

"Get out." He breathed. Without another word, I turned and stormed out.

And now I'm here on this bench outside of a flat in London, slowly evolving into a snowman. I stared at the warm light emitting from the windows on her floor and thought I caught her silhouette.

"Stupid bitch," I breathed.

"I heard that." Stupid me. A snowball hit the back of my head with a _thwack!_ and I turned about on the bench to see that face. She smiled at me, walking over to where I sat, but tripping over a slippery bank of snow. She giggled up at me from the ground beside the bench.

"London Bridget falling down, eh?" I said sarcastically. A gloved hand pulled at my robes, dragging me down onto the cold, snowy embankment beside her. Well, on top of her really. "Ugh, I'm already freezing, why must you always make everything worse?" I said, not bothering to mask the irritation in my voice. She slid out from under me as I got up to sit back down on the bench. Dusting snow off of her backside, she sat down beside me. A knit dark blue hat with a ridiculous-looking pom-pom on the top of it covered the majority of her short dirty blonde hair, causing what of it was exposed to stick out in little wisps framing her face.

"Lighten up, Draco… Just wondering, why exactly are you outside my house at two in the morning in the snow?" she asked, half-serious, half-still wanting to mess with me.

"It's sort of a long… wait, why are you out here?" I asked, realizing how odd it was that she was outside seemingly waiting for me.  
"Well, what better time to build a snowman than while the snow is at its freshest?" she said loftily, gesturing to the deformed mound of snow in the park behind her. I sighed agitatedly.

"When are you going to grow up?" I said condescendingly. The expression of amusement on her pale face melted away to leave only hurt and loathing. I knew I was being a dick but I hadn't been having the best night.

"Maybe I'm trying to avoid it because in nine months I might not have a choice." She said hatefully. It felt like the time that Mudblood had socked me in the face third year. I was at a complete loss for words. She continued. "And maybe it would have been nice to have some kind of support from the bloke who made the mistake in the first place." She added, standing up forcefully and narrowing her brown eyes. Anger flared up inside me.

"Maybe I'm mistaken, but I'm quite sure it takes two to make that kind of mistake." I said hotly. We both stared in silence for a moment, letting the anger sink in. Her expression of intensity faded first to one of grave acceptance.

"Well," she started, sitting back down on the bench, "I suppose that's what we get for putting our faith in Muggle contraceptives, now isn't it?" she said. Exhaling, I sat down next to her.

"I suppose so." I said, admitting defeat. Despite being cleverer in every possible sense, Wizarding contraceptive potions were much more difficult to get a hold of than an average drug-store condom. She turned to me with burning in her eyes, and I could almost see them aging in front of me.

"Can I keep my faith in you?" she asked quietly. "I mean, we're still not… positive. But if it comes to that, will you promise not to run away again?" she said, her voice breaking softly. Until this moment, I wasn't quite sure what exactly it was like to care about someone. I still don't know if what I felt was pity, obligation, or genuine loyalty, but it had already been a rather strange night. Virtually anything was possible at that point.

"Well…" I began, "I didn't risk getting disowned because I wouldn't stop talking to you and take an almost two-hour bus ride and then sit here and freeze my arse off for twenty minutes to let you know that I was going to run away." I said all in one breath and rather quickly. She stared at me for a moment, having to put together all of what I had said, which admittedly probably sounded quite ridiculous at its given speed. I clarified the best I could. My bare hand laced its way through her gloved fingers. With a small sigh, she laid her head down in the crook of my neck. The snow did not let up as the minutes past, crystalline flakes shining in the moonlight, some landing on her lips and eyelashes as she fell asleep.

I had lost my faith in my family that night, as well as my faith in the idea that unfortunate things only happened to unfortunate people. Faith be damned, my pride was one thing I would hold onto with all of my might. Anyone could tell you, "Yeah, that Draco Malfoy is one damn proud bastard," and they would be absolutely right. What reason haven't I got to be proud? I'm the heir of one of the most powerful pureblood families in the Wizarding community, I can do whatever I want, and I'd even go as far as to say I'm quite good-looking. Yes, I made a mistake by improperly preparing to shag a girl in my year who had said she thought I was, "different" than everyone made me out to be. But hell, I'm Draco Malfoy. I do what I want without repercussions or consequences, and nobody says no to me. And yet…

I looked down at her, finally asleep on my shoulder, her hand still intertwined with my own. I was almost numbed from the cold, but that wasn't what mattered now. What mattered was that it made no difference how much of my own faith I had lost that night. What mattered was that I never lost hers.


End file.
